


Isn't it obvious

by kizzafielding101



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kizzafielding101/pseuds/kizzafielding101
Summary: Rosie is worried that someone will capture her so she turns to Sherlock for help. She wants to learn how to survive if she was kidnapped. She has information and she wants to learn how to keep it secret.





	1. Testing the Limits

Crouching down in front of her, he tilted his head to the side, like a snake eyeing up his prey.

The dark room was devoid of all furniture. The walls were just brick, covered in patches with old plasterboard, which was still peeling away. The floor was comprised of oak wood boards and the wall directly in front of her was covered in blood. Whether it had been one person or multiple people she did not know. She didn't want to know.

He stood up abruptly and turned to face the wall. His eyes traced the edge of the spatter. Sharply, he turned his head between her and the blood. Staring into her soul, he searched for the thing she feared the most. She was already scared. Terrified. But what would push her over the edge? What would make her give up?

Slamming his feet down with every step, he approach the opposite wall and crouched down once more. He turned his head to face her. "Does this scare you?" He outstretched a finger and pointed to the wall. "We can arrange this for you." He ran a finger down the wall and then put it in front of his face. "Sorry for the mess. We haven't had a cleaner in for some time. Dust is good though. It tells the story of this room. Do you want to be in it?" He licked his finger and wiped it on his trousers. Her eyes filled with tears and she brought her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her to protect herself.

"Oh shh, shh. Don't want to cause any trouble now do you?" He smiled yet it came across as a death threat. He strolled back across the small room and sat down on the floor right in front of her. "Are you ready to tell me yet?" She bit her lip and rested her head against the wall.

How long could she last before they started to properly torture her. Then she remembered it didn't matter how much they tortured her. There was nothing to tell. Bravely she sat up, took a deep breath and spat in Moriarty's face. "You're going to regret that." With his left hand he grabbed a chunk of her hair and pulled upwards, forcing her to throw her head upwards violently. She inhaled sharply. "Don't ever do that to me. Do you understand how kind I've been here? I could've murdered you on sight. I could've put a gun to your head and shot a bullet through your brain." 

She smiled. "I'm too valuable to you. I'm the only one who has the information you need. So go on. Kill me. If you seriously think that I'm not of use to you." Moriarty smirked at the girls outburst before swiftly pretending to slap her. Stopping an inch from her face he chuckled and whispered, "Nice try." He pulled a gun out of his back pocket and pressed it firmly to her head."

"STOP! STOP!" Rosamund yelled out, her eyes wide. She looked like a rabbit in headlights as she hyperventilated.

Sherlock spoke quietly. "OK. I'll stop. I'm sorry."

Rosamund started to cry. "It's too much. I can't do it. I know I said I wanted to try but I can't do it." The thirteen year old rocked in the empty room of 221B Baker Street. She had wanted to try and see if she'd be any good at being held captive. She'd heard all the horrific tales about Moriarty and Charles Augustus Magnesson. She thought it would be good to be prepared, she would have some chance of surviving. Except she'd never imagined a gun being pulled on her.

"JOHN! I BROKE YOUR CHILD!" Sherlock yelled up the stairs followed by a thunder of feet down the staircase. John ran into 221C. "Oh Rosie. What did he do to you?" She sniffed and wiped away her tears.

"It was my own fault, I asked Uncle Sherlock to train me. So if I did get captured like you and Mum always worry about happening, I could look after myself." John smiled sympathetically, "Rosie, it won't ever happen. I won't let it. Neither will your mother and neither will Sherlock." Sherlock shook his head and looked at her warmly. "Go and see your mother Rosie. She's talking to Mrs Hudson.

Sherlock went to leave with her but John threw his arm across the doorframe. "What the bloody hell did you think you were doing. She's 13! She can't be doing stuff like this. YOU PULLED A GUN ON MY DAUGHTER!" 

Sherlock sighed and looked at the floor. "John we both know things are getting worse. I can't guarantee her safety no matter where she is. She might need that one day. She's old enough to handle it, I know she is. It was her first attempt of course it was a shock."

"DID YOU EVEN THINK to try sitting down with her and try talking first. Finding out what she thought her limit was. Or even trying the talking tactic! How many times have you and your MASSIVE GOB talked yourselves out of a situation? For God's sake Sherlock. GROW UP!" John walked back up the stairs leaving Sherlock to wonder whether the whole thing had been a good idea or not. 

All he'd wanted to do was help. Over the last few weeks all John and Mary had talked about was whether or not Rosie was safe with them. Sherlock had assured them she was but then Moriarty's 'advert' had come back on TV. Miss me? He didn't know how long they had left until Moriarty turned up at the door. Begrudingly he trundled back up the stairs to his flat leaving 221C dark and bloodied.


	2. Miss Me?

After two years in hiding, Moriarty was glad to be home. He had finally returned to his apartment hidden deep within the countryside. It was quite far from London which helped Moriarty. Things were easier to watch from a distance. The whole apartment was pristine. While dust was useful to him, he didn't want any tells in his own home. Throwing the door open, Moriarty leant on the door frame.

"Well, did you miss me?" Moriarty dusted off his suit and turned to Sebastian Moran. Blood still pouring out of the back of his head Moriarty grinned ridiculously. "I was thinking I could comb over." He gestured combing his hair and felt around at the back of his head. "Oh! I didn't know it was that big." He pulled his hand away from the bullet hole at the back of his head and looked at his hand which was now covered in fake blood.

Sebastian smirked at Moriarty's comment. "Oh, pull yourself together Moran." Moran stopped smirking and looked at the floor. "Sorry boss." Moriarty pulled a disappointing face. "It's Sir, Moran. Always Sir. Never Boss. We're not American."

Moriarty left the living room of his apartment and walked into the bathroom. "Find me a new suit Moran. You know my style." Moran nodded, picked up his gun from the table and slid it into the waistband of his trousers before flicking his blazer back around over it.

Moriarty undressed and got into the shower. He knew this was going to be painful after spending two years in hiding. Moran knew he was alive and so lived in Moriarty's apartment, keeping everything just how he liked it. Stepping into the shower he breathed deeply a few times before pressing the button on the shower. Water came out in a jet of needles into his back. "FUCK!" Moriarty screamed as the water ripped its way through the many open wounds on his back.

He gritted his teeth and started to wash while the pain seared through every fibre of his being. His brown eyes were watering by the time he finished. His chestnut hair had fallen out of it's gelled back state and had flopped everywhere. If he brushed it downwards it would easily have covered his eyes.

Stepping out of the shower slowly, his back was exceedingly painful to touch and in some places was bleeding a little. He wrapped a towel firmly around his waist and stuck his head out of the bathroom door to make sure Moran was not in the bedroom. The coast was clear. He locked the bedroom door and found a new suit laid out neatly on the bed. Moriarty dried himself off and shook his hair about. Putting on the suit he found it fit quite nicely. Moran had been sure to buy a few sizes smaller due to Moriarty's weight loss. 

Slicking his hair back and doing up his tie, Moriarty began to feel a bit more like his old self

 

Slicking his hair back and doing up his tie, Moriarty began to feel a bit more like his old self. "One final touch," he whispered to himself. Pulling open the bottom drawer, Moriarty removed all the folded pyjamas and reached to the back. "There you are," Moriarty cooed. In his hand he held a Beretta 92FS Inox.

He turned it over in his hand and stared straight down the barrel. He pointed it at a wall and fingered the trigger. He lowered the gun before suddenly firing through the wall. From the other room a voice yelled. "BLOODY HELL JIM!" Moriarty opened the door of his bedroom. "SEBASTIAN!" Sebastian stared straight back at Jim Moriarty. "Sorry, SIR, but that narrowly missed my head!"

"Pay attention then. Thanks for the suit."

Sebastian's gaze turned from annoyed to confused. Moriarty never said thank you for anything. "You feeling OK Sir?" Moriarty placed his gun in his waistband on his right hand-side but further towards the front than Moran. It had to be obvious to his enemies that his gun was always an option. "Yes Moran. I'm fine. Now, what do we do about Sherlock Holmes..."

Moran handed him a bottle of champagne. "Personally Sir, I'd wait a week, maybe longer. The silence will drive him crazy. He knows it's unlike you. You've given him a challenge and then not delivered any clues which goes against your pattern." Moriarty nodded. "Moran, I get things done quickly because I need the game. Sherlock has drugs, I have Sherlock." Moran sat down on the sofa and folded his arms. "Sir, I understand but if you're itching to get on with the game, imagine how bad Sherlock feels."

Moriarty felt an internal struggle beginning. He did not want to suffer any longer yet if he rushed in to the game, he would almost certainly lose.

"Fine Moran. Wait a week or two. What do we do after that though?"

"Rosie. We kidnap Rosie. Then we frame Sherlock."

"We tried kidnapping them before and they soon realised I framed him."

"Yes Sir, because Dr Watson would not turn on his friend. Yet if his child was kidnapped. Would he be so slow to turn?"


	3. Make a Deduction

Sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table Sherlock and Rosie were staring each other in the eye. "Have you cleared your mind Rosie?" Rosie stared back. "Yes."

"Good. Let's try again then."

"Ready."

"Why should I keep you alive?"  
"Cause I don't want to die."  
"Dead. Try again."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you."  
"I'm worth more to you alive."  
"You don't know what information I need."  
"Obviously information I know or you wouldn't have kidnapped me."  
"How do you not know I'm doing it for the money?"  
"What money?"  
"Stalemate nicely done. You took control, asked the question and forced him to shut up or he would've given information away."

Rosie smiled in her chair. "Are we done? Am I good at it now?"  
"No. There are many other situations for you to talk your way out of. I gave you an easy way out that time."

John was sat in his old chair updating his blog while Sherlock taught Rosie more 'child - friendly' lessons. A cup of tea was resting at the far end of the table, John had made it for Sherlock but apparently he had better things to do. Mary was off with Mycroft on some case or other. 

"Rosie. What three things do we memorise when being kidnapped?"

"People, places, things"

"And why do we remember this?"

"One, because you know who or at least what is attacking you. This can be an advantage as the time you spend trapped or in the worst case unconcious, you can plan a counter attack or know when to sit it out. Secondly, you memorise all exits for the escape route and how many steps it was between important things. Thirdly, any little thing on the way there helps you gain your bearings making you less likely to succumb to techniques they may use to distort your sense of self or place."

Sherlock grinned widely. "Not bad for an hours work, is it John?" John turned around in his chair. "No, not bad at all. Well done Rosie!" Rosie smiled but was a little hesitant to go back to the techniques Sherlock had been used before. She often forgot that Sherlock was sometimes a little untrustworthy. Although he would always get there in the end, you couldn't rely on the little things. She wanted to build herself up like her Dad had suggested.

"Can you teach me how to tie ropes and get out of them Sherlock?" Sherlock chuckled, "I've never been captured but your Dad might have some tips there." John stared at Sherlock before retrieving the ropes from Flat C. He sat Rosie against a wall and tied her hands behind her back.

First, he tied them so both wrists were touching, for a beginner this made it easier for her to reach the ropes and move her fingers about more. "Go on Rosie." She pulled against the ropes hard. "OW!" John sat in front of her. "Don't pull. Wriggle. If you pull the rope gets tighter." Rosie wriggled her hands about and the rope soon became loose enough for her to pull her hands out.

"Good! Now. If they're tying you up to a chair, tense all your muscles. You'll take up more space and when you relax the ropes will be looser. There are loads of other little tricks like this. For example..." John took off his shoe. "Look at the lace. It's paracord. If you change your laces it can create more friction and you can use it to cut through the rope."

Rosie's jaw had dropped and her eyes widened. She was shocked at how prepared her Dad was. He always looked so relaxed but he had reinforced shoe laces and stored his gun in his belt. "Wow." Rosie exclaimed. John put his shoe back on and looked at his daughter. "What?" Rosie looked her Dad in the eye. "I just never realised how prepared you were. I thought you were so calm all the time but..." John tied up his paracord laces. "When you live with Sherlock Holmes for four years you have to be prepared. I woke up upside down once."

Rosie giggled, imagining her father dangling from the ceiling with his arms crossed and a grumpy expression on his pink face. "Do you want me to come downstairs with you? We can go through everything bit by bit until you're happy you know how to do everything?" She nodded, "That would be helpful. Thank you." John Watson smiled, safe in the knowledge that no matter how far away she was, she would always be able to look after herself. 

The father and daughter went downstairs to the prison while Sherlock went to his room humming The Universe song from Monty Python. John had watched the re run on TV last night. He'd deleted a section of instagram to make space for it. 

John opened the door of Flat C. "GOOD GOD! What has he stored in here? It smells... disgusting." Rosie looked down at her feet as she kicked the floor. "Does it? Must have blocked it out. Having a gun pressed to your head tends to remove that sort of thing." John sighed, "Rosie. I really didn't know he was going to do that. I haven't pulled a gun since you were born." John thought it over in his head, Sherlock would have to practise that with her. There was always a chance Moriarty would pull a gun on her and she had to be able to deal with it. He could never put a gun to her head. Ever.

"Rosie, what do you want to do first?" He watched her as she sat in the middle of the room and turned her head around trying to take everything in. She stared at the blood spatter on the wall. "That's paint. I didn't notice it before. I thought it was blood." She shut her eyes and thought to herself. "Mind tricks. Of course. Sherlock put me at the other end of the room because the lighting better there. It's darker on that wall so I couldn't tell."

John felt confused as he saw his daughter make deductions that would've taken him about the same time. She was overtaking him. He hoped she wouldn't turn out completely like Sherlock! As she returned back to reality she moved back to where Sherlock had positioned her. "I was sat here. Sherlock licked the blood on the wall. Paint but whatever. He never shouted." She looked up at her Dad, "Would Moriarty shout?" John nodded. "Shout then. I've got to cope with it and there's nothing more scary than you shouting at me." John smiled, "Your Mum maybe? She can be terrifying. She's pulled a gun a few times since you've been born."

Rosie smiled, "Really? I can't imagine it." John smiled back, "Her gun's better than mine as well! Silver."

"Right then. Do you want me to tie you up? Just a rope for now?" Rosie nodded comfortable with the fact she could easily get out of that. "Do my feet too." She held her feet out in front of her. "Have we got a chair?" John left the room and brought down the wooden chair from the kitchen. As he went downstairs he yelled out, "Someone's going to have to teach her how to fight. I'm leaving it to Mary!"

He put the chair against the wall and Rosie sat down. "You sure you want me to properly tie you?" Rosie paused and took a breath before nodding. "This isn't the real thing Rosie OK. I can untie you at any moment OK?"

Taking a step forward, John tied Rosie's waist to the chair and he pretended not to notice that she'd tensed up very visibly. Her cheeks had puffed out but she caught herself and fixed it. She looked reasonably normal and the ropes were tight against her. He sat on her feet as he tied them up telling her that, "Moriarty will assume you're violent and whoever ties you up will do this too so you can't kick them." He tied her hands properly this time, the back of her hand to her wrist. She couldn't bend her hand around properly but she could twist her wrists to move the rope. John walked to the other end of the room and took out his phone. He took a picture and texted Mary. 

It's only me dw. We're practicing.

-Husband

"I'm going to time it OK? It's got to be un-noticeable until you get to your feet. By the time you are ready to do your feet. You're going to have to take off your shoes, undo it, grab your shoes and run out of the door in the time they've turned round. That is the most important bit Rosie. If you're captured and you mess that bit up, you're going to get tied back up and have almost no chance of escaping... Ready? GO!"


	4. The British Government

"Ahh, Mary Watson. How are we?"

"Cut the crap Mycroft. What is it?"

"Why the rush Mrs Watson? We are British after all, pleasantries are our way of life. Please, sit down."

Mycroft was flicking through a black folder with what must have been hundreds of pieces of paper inside. This was odd. Usually Mary Watson was called in when they had next to no information on the subject. Sitting on the edge of an old, red armchair in the Diogenes club, Mary watched as Mycroft paced up and down his room. Towards the end of the file he flicked through the pages a bit quicker.

"Anything interesting?"

"Ah, just reading up on Sherlock's file."

"Not interesting then."

Mycroft smiled at Mary's comment, they had a mutual agreement when it came to Sherlock. Although he was clever for John, for the both of them he was still too slow. 

"So. What can I do for you?"

"You've worked out Moriarty's plan of course?"

"Naturally. The very reason I've been staying out of the way."

"Rosie may get hurt."

"She won't. John just texted me. Look." She flashed her phone screen in Mycroft's direction. 

"Why is she tied up?"

"She asked him to. She's a smart girl. With my genes and Sherlock helping her, she might beat us both."

Mary looked down at her phone screen sadly. She loved Rosie but she knew she had to let the game play out. Moriarty was nowhere near as dangerous as he was before but they couldn't always predict his moves. He was too... human, too basic. He could snap and change his plans in a moment. Mycroft sat down in his black leather recliner sofa and crossed his legs. 

"I hope. She's an asset to you that girl. She might join us one day."

"Maybe. I suspect she might be a drama girl."

"How so?"

"Sherlock's a drama queen and it's cheaper than therapy."

Mycroft smirked. "Of course. Well, I suspect we have some free time."

"What makes you think that?"

"Moriarty texted me. He says we've got a week."

"Hang on. Moriarty is texting you the details?"

"Yes. I'll give you a minute."

Mycroft leant back in his chair and made a triangle with his hands as he watched Mary take in this new information.

"Ah. You're entertaining the toddler."

"If I didn't, who would? I don't get all of the details but I can figure them out roughly. I called you here to warn you that as amazing as Rosie may be, you know how unpredictable Moriarty can be sometimes. If guns get involved she may... how do you say, freak out."

"Well, I can't tell her obviously. She'd tell them. I can arm her though."

"A teenager Watson! No, that won't do. I'd give them the week."

"Well, can't you just tell him the games off?"

"Goodness me no. Sherlock would go off the rails and Moriarty would start blowing up NATO in alphabetical order."

"Jesus Mycroft. You really aren't in control are you. Your just balancing children. One day you're going to drop them."

"I'll put an inflatable floor in," he smirked, "I trust you'll manage then."

"Manage what?"

"Putting the cameras back up. Sherlock pulled them down after last time."

"Piece of cake. I'll see you whenever Mycroft."

"Indeed Mrs Watson. Indeed."

Mycroft remained seated as Mary Watson turned and left the Diogenes club quietly. He looked to the waterfall painting in his office drearily before sighing and going back to the pile of folders on his desk. 

Mary's heels clicked harshly against the pavement annoying everyone on her way back out to the high street. She clicked her fingers at a black cab and slid in. "221B Baker Street please."


	5. Panic Button

"VERY GOOD ROSIE! WOW!"

John Watsons voice erupted from the lower flat as Rosie broke out of the ropes tying her feet and legged it from 221C. She poked her head back round the corner beaming proudly. 

"Well, someone's clearly nailed that!"

Sherlock ran down the stairs. "She did it easily then."

Rosie continued to beam. "Yes I did! Easy Peasy!"

Rosie had left a chair behind with the rope still tied around the chair and her shoes next to each other an inch apart below the chair. Even in escaping she'd kept everything together and tidy. Sherlock grinned. "Please John! Let us do the Panic Button!" John's eyebrows raised and he began to shout. "NO WAY! No Sherlock. It's too much. She freaked at the gun."

Rosie's head flicked between Sherlock and her father. "What is the Panic Button?" Sherlock gestured towards Rosie as if to say, well she asked not me. Sighing John sat on the floor. "Basically, Sherlock wants to do what he was doing before but worse. He's gonna tie you up, shout and pull a gun. You have to try not to panic and escape but he is allowed to fire the gun. Not necessarily at you but if you move unpredictably he might shoot you. SO NO! No Sherlock. End of."

Rosie bit her bottom lip nervously and looked around the room. "Can I do it to him?"

John almost jumped at her words. "I'm not giving you a gun Rosie."

"Sure." Sherlock smiled from the corner of the room. "You'll understand how Moriarty feels better. Or any bad guy for that matter. You need to know what it's like to have control and how to keep it." The detective had practically leapt into the chair and started tying himself up. Rosie began getting excited and John realised he had no choice in the matter anymore. "Fine but definitely NO GUN. AT ALL." Sherlock beckoned for Rosie to come closer while John had his back turned. "You can slap me if you want though. Just, if you feel you're losing the room." He winked, he knew physical pain would be easier to control if she knew it was coming. She'd know how to predict it.

"Dad, I'll be fine honestly. Go and make tea or something. I need to do this." John looked at Sherlock wondering if this was really going to go OK. His daughter, a vulnerable girl who needed protecting threatening the world's most renowned detective. "OK. Call if you need me."

Sherlock sat in the chair grinning ridiculously. "Hurry up Rosie. I could've run off already without you even tying me up." Rosie ran to the chair and tied Sherlock up properly making sure every rope was double knotted and there was no way he could get out. He had, naturally, held his breath to make the ropes slightly looser anyway. "Now, I have information you want. Try and get it from me." Rosie sat on the floor and stared. She didn't say a word. Sherlock stared back. The door had been shut and Rosie could hear the kettle on upstairs.

What would Sherlock do? Rosie thought hard and tried to practice her deductions. 

His shoes were loose, he was wearing loafers not tie up shoes. They'd be the first to come off making it easier to escape.

He's thinking, he's staring blankly not hardly. He's gone to his mind palace. I need to move now.

Rosie darted towards the chair while Sherlock had wandered off to somewhere in his head. She circled him looking for the way he would try and get out. She redid every knot while he was relaxed making it harder to get out of. She duct taped his feet together after taking his shoes off. She checked both his trouser pockets removing both his phone and his gun which she kept at the other side of the room so her Dad didn't kick off. She then found a note in his top jacket pocket quickly before sitting back down as his eyes flickered with signs of life.

"How long did I wander off for?" Sherlock questioned as he came back to reality.

"2 minutes," Rosie answered.

"Was that long enough?"

"For what, " she innocently regaled.

"Rosie, I wandered off, I went blind, I could still feel."

"Damn."

"Go on then. What was the thing I was hiding."

"Moriarty, 2 weeks."

"Oh it was two weeks! That's what I was trying to remember. Show me?"

Rosie stood up and went over to Sherlock holding up the piece of paper. Sherlock read it intensely, his eyes flicking up and down over every curved letter as Rosie took a step closer to him. "That's your handwriting Rosie." Sherlock smiled as he realised he'd given her the timing. "Thanks for confirming it though Sherl." Sherlock pulled a fake angry face. "UNCLE Sherlock, thank you very much." Rosie thought that was a perfectly good time to firmly slap Sherlock across the face. "OW! Damn Rosie. What'd I do you!" She smirked, "I lost control of the room." She began walking back to the right hand corner of the room while Sherlock fidgeted madly trying to escape the ropes because he knew she wouldn't turn her back very often. Rosie licked her lips, counting to ten. Knowing full well on ten, Sherlock would be out of the ropes and a footstep away from the doorway. 

Whispering she began to speak the numbers aloud, "7...8...9..." On ten she span suddenly and pointed the gun at her Uncle. "FREEZE!" Rosie yelled. Sherlock froze like a statue, his eyes seeing his niece pointing a gun directly at his face. "Rosie. What did your Dad say?"

If ever there was a time for her to prove herself it was now. She walked slowly across the room for tension before shoving the gun between Sherlock's shoulder blades. He thrust his shoulder blades back like a chicken involuntarily. "Rosie?" She remained in character. "Sit down."

Sherlock sat, his eyes slightly frightened. Rosie didn't normally ignore her Dad. She shut the door quietly. "Why are Mum and Dad lying to me?" Sherlock's eyes widened a little, noticing the inflection in her words. She really had grown up. She was so much more aware than everyone was taking credit for. "Rosie they aren't. I promise you." She walked to the far end of the room but remained in front of Sherlock so she could see when he lied. "I'm going to start here. If I get within a step of you. I will shoot."

"Question 1. What's happening in 2 weeks."

"Moriarty's coming back. He wants me. He'll use you."

She took a step closer. 

"That wasn't a lie Rosie."

"Question 2. Why didn't Mum tell me?"

"She thinks you'll freak at guns."

Rosie laughed a little as she looked at the gun in her hand. Her Mum knew her so well. She took a step forward and stopped laughing.

"Question 3. Why did I ask you to do this with me?"

"You're scared. You think you can't trust us. You can though Rosie. I won't lie to you."

She took two steps forward. She was now two steps away from Sherlock.

"Last question. Are Mum and Dad splitting up?"

Sherlock said nothing but looked at the floor as Rosie's feet shuffled forward.

"Look up."

Sherlock's tear filled eyes looked at Rosie who wasn't even shaking as she held the gun an inch away from Sherlock's head. "Wasn't I good?"

"Yes Rosie you were excellent."

"Dad thinks I'm not grown up enough to handle myself but I have a gun in my hand and the best detective in the world at the end of it."

"Yes Rosie. But you forgot one thing."

"What?"

"You know your Dad said not to pick up a gun. Look at the stairs."

In that brief second that Rosie looked towards the stairs, hoping desperately not to see her Dad sat there, Sherlock smashed the chair against the wall, ducked under the gun, rolled behind Rosie and snatched the gun out of her hand. He grabbed her right arm and pinned it to her back while holding his gun firmly to her temple.

"You are always going to be scared of your Daddy. You can't change that but you can use it to defend him."

"Did I do OK though?"

"Yes Rosie. You did great. Come on, let's go drink tea."

Sherlock slotted his gun back in his waistband and walked behind Rosie up the stairs worrying she might try and nick it back off of him. John sat upstairs talking to Mrs Hudson.

"How'd it go?"

Sherlock looked to Rosie who was blushing at her attempt.

"Pretty good. For the first time."


	6. The Game is On

"Boys, anyone home?" Mary Watson called up the stairs. Sherlock yelled back, "KITCHEN."

As she walked further into the building a smashed chair in 221C caught her eye. She snapped a quick photo and texted Mycroft.

Don't think she'll have a problem. - MW

Hurrying up the stairs she saw them all sat round the kitchen table which for once had been cleared of all scientific equipment. Rosie was drinking water out of a clean conical flask while Mrs Hudson, John and Sherlock drank tea normally. 

"What happened downstairs?"

Rosie nearly choked on her water.

Sherlock laughed, " I escaped the wrath of Rosie."

Mary smiled, "Holding up cities already. I thought we had a while till this happened John. I'll have to phone Mycroft." There was a pause, "John can I have a word."

John got up and went into the hallway. Mrs Hudson left to go back to her flat and there remained just Rosie and Sherlock. They sat silently until Rosie got up and moved to her Dad's chair and sighed.

"Rosie. I know it's hard," Sherlock began from the kitchen as he moved to his chair, "Statistically though it was inevitable. John is an impossible man."

"I know Sherlock, but I don't want to be running my whole life."

"You won't. 221B will always be happy to have you. As will I."

"As long as I don't pull a gun on you again right."

He tapped his nose knowingly. "I won't say if you won't. We'll both be in trouble."

"So," she began, "What's the game about this time?"

"Not a clue." Sherlock smiled over his cup of tea.

"I can see the front page now. Sherlock Holmes - Not a clue"

They chuckled together, ignoring the fact that outside the door, Mary was probably only just informing John that their child was in danger. Rosie waited for him to walk in and sit down like he always did with bad news. In walked John. She stood up and dragged out the chair that the people usually sat in. She sat in her Dad's chair.

"You sit there. Tell me what's going to happen. And then I'm going to tell you it's not going to happen cause I'm stronger than you think."

John and Mary looked to each other and smiled at their daughter. "Moriarty, " Mary blurted out, "He just sent word. You have a week remaining. Then he's going to start the game."

"What about. There's been nothing. No texts, no clues, no phone calls. There can't be a game without a warm up!"

Mrs Hudson entered, "Sorry to interrupt, a letter's come for you."

Sherlock took it. "It's for all of us." He opened it and swiftly read the invitation. " Do you fancy dinner in a weeks time? A tables been reserved."


	7. Westwood

At 6:30, everyone got in a cab which dropped them a street away from the Italian restaurant. The sun was just starting to go down and everyone was dressed nicely. Mary was in a black shoulder strap dress which fell to her feet. Rosie was in a white dress with roses on it and both of the boys were in black suits with no tie. Getting out of the cab and onto the street, Sherlock pulled out a striped pink and white paper bag. 

"Sweet anyone?" 

Everyone took one individually, pretended to place it in their mouth and then itched their head at different times putting the earpiece into place.

"So, what happens when it all kicks off?" Rosie wondered being the only unarmed person on their way to greet Moriarty.

"I don't know if it will, " chimed in Mycroft over the comms. "He hasn't got anyone with him, not even as a lookout. Perhaps Sherlock did his job properly for once, heaven forbid!"

"Yes thank you Mycroft for your little input there. Go away."

Rosie chuckled and looked at Sherlock who was completely stern faced as he walked into Prezzo. John walked up to the counter, "Hello. I believe there's a table booked under Moriarty?" The waiter nodded and led them to their table. "Water for everyone?" He asked politely and they all declined with a smile. Jim wasn't there. 

"Mycroft. Where is he?"

"One street away now. He'll be there in five minutes. Hang on, he's just put a poster up."

"Clue?"

"OH FOR F..."

"Child on the comms Mycroft," John quickly cut in.

"I've heard you say worse Dad," Rosie said which earned her a sharp look from both John and Mary.

"What'd he put Mycroft?"

"I'll cut out the expletives. Go away Mycroft, this is a private dinner between friends."

They all chuckled quietly and began talking about their last case as they saw Moriarty enter the restaurant. The tension could have had a hole shot through it.

Sherlock held out a hand, "Jim! How've you been?"

Jim shook it firmly, "Oh you know. Dead." 

Everyone smiled politely but Jim would not take his eyes off of Rosie. Mycroft whispered over the comms. "Rosie, say something. You have the floor."

"Nice to meet you Jim."

"Rosie isn't it?" The Irish voice questioned but smiled nonetheless.

"Yes Sir."

"Sir? John, what a polite young girl you've raised."

Mary though she better take over. "I don't believe we've met."

"I don't believe we have. Enchante. You must tell me how on earth John got you. Of course, he has his moments but he must have pulled off a miracle to get a stunning woman like you."

"Why thank you. Army doctor, the chase appealed to me. Something I'm sure we all love. The chase. Wouldn't you agree?"

"It seems someone's read up on me. I'm flattered Mrs Watson."

"Please, call me Mary."

Mycroft was practically groaning over the amount of politeness at the table. He wanted to get to the point so he didn't have to listen to this drivel all evening. 

"Shall we order? " Sherlock exclaimed abruptly.

"By all means!" Jim waved a hand at the nearest waiter. "I would simply love some pasta in a tomato sauce and just a little Parmesan with some garlic bread on the side, thank you." 

The rest of the group ordered and off the waiter wandered. Rosie was smiling softly while try to deduct what Moriarty's plan was, perhaps more discreetly than Sherlock who looked as though he was having a staring match with Moriarty's right pocket. 

"Sherlock... Pleased to see me?" Moriarty held back his laughter as he tilted his head in the direction of Sherlock's waistband where his gun was starting to become visible.

"Don't take it personally Jim, it's just something I like to have on me."

Jim winked, "Precautions Sherlock. Down boy."

"So what's the game Jim?"

"Tut, tut Sherlock. Never ask a gentleman his plans. It's something we like to keep close to our chest. Let's continue with the polite dinner conversation shall we. After all it is ever so rare for us to meet like this."

Rosie thought she better talk this through with her Mum who no doubt had a solid idea of the game by now. "Mum, " she whispered, "I need the loo." Mary nodded, "Excuse us gentlemen, powder room."

Jim smiled, "Hurry back, the food won't be long Rosie!"

Mary walked ahead of Rosie at a steady pace so it looked like they weren't running off but Rosie looked back and Jim's eyes were fixed on her father. Not her. Mary shut the door the instant they were both in and then checked the toilets were empty. She tapped her comms once to make sure both the boys were listening. 

"Dad, it's you." Rosie told them all. "NOT ME. He's playing off of me to get to you. Dad is Sherlock's 'pet' and Moriarty wants one now he's on his own." 

Mary looked confused, "Mycroft, you said he wanted Rosie."

Mycroft also sounded confused. He had been 99% sure that Rosie was going to be the target. Of course it was possible that Rosie would still be taken. But why when Moriarty knew she could leave at any moment. "Perhaps he still intends to take her, to force John to come after him?"

Rosie looked up at her Mum. "This is too simple. Far too simple. It's got to be a double bluff then. It has to be me. It has to be."

"Or even me, " she pondered, "His comments are too vague. He's never vague. He always leaves clues. This is too... human."

Rosie hung on her Mum's final word. Moriarty had said to keep his plans close to his chest. 

"THE PLANS ARE ON MORIARTY. Near his heart. You don't keep things close to your chest except when you play cards and Sherlock ask what the game was. Moriarty said plans, not what the game was. So, the plans are on him."

Sherlock coughed twice over the comms, they'd been a while, time to come back to the table.

Mary smiled as she pulled out the chair for Rosie before sitting back down. "Did we miss anything?"

"I don't think so, the food's just coming." Moriarty looked towards the kitchen door where the waiters were emerging.

Mary mouthed 'You OK?' to John who'd been quiet since they sat down. He nodded and watched his food come out. The man leading with the food had a scratch on his jawline and he was wearing a suit from the same place as Moriarty. 

"Sherlock, look how well dressed everyone is here. We should've dressed up a bit more. Jim where do you shop? Mary's always saying I should get a new suit!"

Jim checked the inside label of his jacket, "This jacket's from Westwood which is where I normally get my clothes."

Sherlock's eyes had flicked wildly but Moriarty seemed not to have noticed. Perhaps there was an upside to having so many people at a table. For both parties. Moriarty was collecting information on the entire family and Sherlock was collecting information on the game/ plan.

Sherlock had ordered the same as Moriarty, feeling it would be the least amount of food to consume. Rosie had ordered a small magherita pizza, John had ordered spaghetti and meatballs and Mary had ordered a lasagna. 

"Oh, I almost forgot. Sherlock. Happy Birthday!"

Everyone looked towards Sherlock and smiled as the waiters began singing Happy Birthday. Sherlock had never looked more uncomfortable in his life and Moriarty was loving it. "Rosie, you knew didn't you?" She nodded, chuckling at Sherlock's face which looked as though he was trying to melt into the floor. Anywhere where people weren't singing his name loudly and out of tune.

Everyone clapped when they'd finished and the lead waiter brought out a tiny cupcake with a candle in it for Sherlock. "Go on Sherlock, make a wish!" Rosie begged and so the detective blew gently into the flame. Smoke wisped away and everyone tucked into their food.

"God, have you ever tasted anything better!" Moriarty couldn't get enough of his pasta but it was like he was trying to run out of the door. He was going to have to make a sharp exit and he wanted food first. Rosie noticed, "Slow down Jim. Mum always says I'll get heartburn if I eat too fast and she's usually right." Moriarty chuckled, "Wise, isn't she!" His gaze falling upon John who was biting into a meatball. 

Rosie felt odd. She was beginning to think that maybe Moriarty could be trusted but that was just his charm, she knew that. He was talking to her like an adult but in some cases putting her down but he did this with Sherlock and her Dad. He was treating her like any other game player. How was she supposed to react? How would he deal with her? How would she escape the trap? Too many thoughts. Too many....

Sherlock jumped out of his chair as Rosie fell into her pizza. She went all limp and nearly fell off the table. He hadn't noticed John fall asleep into his meatballs and Mary was completely gone too. 

"This food is just so good!" Moriarty looked up. "What happened? Conversation not thrilling enough?" Sherlock laughed. "Happy Birthday to me!" Moriarty grinned, "I brought you a present Sherlock." 

Sherlock tilted his head like a puppy. "You see little Rosie? Did you not think she's a bit too bright to be John's? Sherlock's eyes widened a little but his voice remained low as he continued to eat. "No. John has his moments." Moriarty snorted, "Come on Sherlock. Rosie noticed I was treating her equally before John did!" Sherlock wiped his mouth but remained calm. "You're not her Dad Jim." Jim looked up, "I never said that."

Sherlock wobbled in his chair. "It must have taken a little longer because I had other drugs in my system."

Moriarty smiled and held Sherlock's head as it slowly fell to the table. "Night Night Birthday Boy."


	8. Don't Struggle

She could hear noises outside but they were quiet. Her eyes were open but everything was still dark. They were moving. Car. She was in the boot. She felt around for the brake light. She wasn't tied up. Kicking with all her might she the brake light came away from the car. She peeked out. It was about 9pm, the sun had gone completely. No one was on the road behind them and they were pulling up into a gravel path. They parked and a car door opened. There was no passenger. it was just her and him.

His Irish voice came thick and fast as he saw the hole in his car. "Jesus Rosie. I'll tie you up next time."

He opened the boot and she sat up. "I was going to put you in the backseat but I didn't want to see you roll off the backseat. That and I'd be done for kidnapping."

"You're Jim Moriarty. No one 'does' you for anything."

"You're quite right." He offered a hand to help her out of the boot.

Rosie looked up at the night sky. "It's beautiful out here. Countryside?"

Moriarty looked down at her, "Wow. You really do have an amazing mind. Sherlock must have been training you."

She shut her mouth instantly. It started now. Retain information. Tell as little as you can. Make it seem like a lot.

"Nice place you've got here. Better than 221B anyway. More space."

"Thank you. I bought it a while back. Figured I'd need a place to retire someday and where better than then country where no one can hear you scream!" He chuckled to himself at the horror movie reference and shut the boot. They walked side by side up the gravel path. "Oh, there's someone inside. Feel free to ignore him."

Moriarty felt around in his pocket for the house keys and found them eventually attacked to a tiny crystal skull. Rosie smiled at the little trinket and looked up at the door which had flung open. 

"Sweetie! I'm home. I brought company!"

A tall, blonde haired man stood in the kitchen with a scar on his jawline. "Hey, it's the waiter!"

"SEE MORAN!" Moriarty jokingly shouted, "I told you she was smart. We'll be in the lounge. You carry on feeding the dogs."

Rosie could barely contain her excitement. "Dogs?"

Moriarty grabbed a photo frame on their way to the lounge. Two large Newfoundland dogs. "Monty and Rossi. Aren't they just... amazing?" Rosie nodded. "Super fluffy."

Moriarty sighed and sank down into his black leather sofa. "Please, sit." Rosie sat directly opposite trying to take in as much about her surroundings as possible without being noticed. How many photo frames are in the room? Where's the dog kennel? Which rooms leads to which? How far away from home was she? Moriarty realised she was trying memory techniques and allowed her to carry on. She might as well. She was going home in an hour.

"Finished?" He asked when she stopped twitching and blinking every second. Rosie sat still so he continued, "Don't worry. This wasn't a proper kidnapping. I just wanted to talk to you for a bit. Adults can be so informal. It was too intense at the restaurant. Nice to see you all though."

Rosie smiled and relaxed a bit. "So what did you want to talk about?" Moriarty sat forward and poured himself a brandy. "I would offer you some but I'm sure Daddy wouldn't approve." Rosie smiled, "Don't worry about it. I'm not entirely sure I could trust you with more food and drink anyway!"

"Probably for the best, " he winked, "It's expensive stuff this. You're better off with wine."

"I've got a few years yet until I can have this stuff."

"How old are you now? 12?"

"I'm 13."

"WOW! You're so much cleverer than I was when I was 13. I was just breaking into places and picking locks. Now of course I'm just your average consulting criminal trying to wind up Sherlock Holmes. Oh that reminds me, would you pass me your comms?"

Mycroft reappeared in Rosie's ear and she'd forgotten he was there, "It's fine Rosie. He's going to take you home in a bit anyway."

"Sure." She took out her comm and handed it over to Moriarty.

"I'll have her back in an hour Myc. Do inform the fretting parents. Goodnight." He ended the conversation promptly before dropping the comm into the brandy bottle. He watched it sink to the bottom and bubbles rise to the drop as if it was drowning. Rosie watched with him.

"Right! Where were we?" Moriarty asked as he held his glass of brandy between his hands.

"You wanted to have a conversation."

"Right. Would you consider me... evil?" His eyes tried to maintain contact with hers so she had to give a truthful answer. There was nothing to remember about him and if she looked to the left he'd know she was lying.

"Depends on your definition of evil." Rosie remarked.

"Someone who has no moral code."

"Then no. I would not consider you evil."

"Why not."

"You clearly have some sort of moral code."

"Says who?"

"Says the man who didn't tie me up in a boot and didn't shout at me for breaking his car." She smiled but felt a little bad for kicking out his brake light. Her Dad always complained about car parts costing so much.

"Well, would you consider me a bad man."

"Certainly."

"Why?"

"You've killed, have you not?"

"Yes." He smiled almost remembering every murderous touch of a body.

"Murder is bad."

"According to whose moral code." He leapt to defend himself despite having just admitted he'd killed people. It was very difficult to come back from that.

"Everyone that isn't a psychopath."

"Touche." Moriarty smirked and took a sip of his drink.

Rosie turned to look out the window as Moran put the food bowls down for the dogs. Two bundles of fluff ran at him. She'd imagined Moriarty as a man with dogs that barked angrily and bared their teeth but instead two over sized rabbits whose legs didn't go where they were told.

"Do you know why we got them?"

Rosie turned back to face Moriarty, waiting to hear the answer.

"I wanted a pet. I got two. I beat Sherlock. Don't tell him though." He tapped his nose like Sherlock had the day before. 

"Course not. Can I go home now?"

"Of course sweetie. MORAN, I'm dropping Rosie home. I'll be back in an hour."

Moriarty stood up and gestured for Rosie to go first.

"You can sit in the passenger seat this time.."


	9. You can't kill an idea

Sherlock was sat crossed legged in his chair at 221B Baker Street. His mind was calculating the dates between John and Mary conceiving Rosie and where John was at certain times. Since his moving out this had become increasingly difficult but he tried where he could to keep tabs. Was Moriarty really Rosie's real Dad? He started cross referencing where Mary had been with John. They'd had time. Taking John's older conquests, he was three minutes tops. Depending on the level of foreplay. Seeing as they'd been in a reasonably long relationship he assumed three minutes was all John would have taken. 

He couldn't just accuse Mary of sleeping with the worlds only consulting criminal. If only Mycroft were here, he could easily have asked Mary and taken the slap. Why did he have to have a heart? Why did he have to be so human?

Mary had never doubted for a moment that Rosie was John's. John had never doubted for a moment that Rosie was his. Mary hadn't had a single freak out. They were both supporting each other and Rosie. Neither had really connected with Rosie, Mary especially. John had helped Rosie learn things and she knew he loved her in his own way but neither had actually said it to her. 

"Moriarty's going to play on her feelings. Convince her that she's his. It's not true. I just know it's not true."

John suddenly came in from looking for Rosie. "What was that?"

Sherlock shut up like a clam. "Nothing. Just wondering what time Moriarty will drop Rosie back?"

John blinked, "What do you mean, what time?"

There was a double knock at the door. John walked out of the room muttering under his breath. "You arsehole."

He opened the door to Rosie stood on the doorstep holding three letters. "There's one for each of you. He said to open them in different rooms before swapping storied." She smiled. "He seemed nicer than I expected. I've been training for the worst case scenario and I just had a chat and met his dogs."

Rosie wandered upstairs to Sherlock with his letter, John went up to his old room to read his letter, texting Mary on the stairs to come to 221B immediately. Sherlock listened to Rosie's every step on the stairs. She was slowing down. She was thinking. What was she thinking?

He closed his eyes. 

Steps slower, thinking. Moriarty, chat, dogs. Pets, John, information, soldier. Mary. Moriarty and Mary. No, Mary and John. No, Mary and ....

"Sherlock? Moriarty gave me letters for all of you. Do you want yours?"

He held out his right hand and she dropped the letter in his palm. Moving his hand up and down he tested the weight. 10 grams. Roughly the weight of three sheets of heavy paper. Placing the envelope down on the arm of the chair he looked to Rosie who was waiting expectantly for something new to be read aloud.

"Rosie. What were you thinking on the stairs?"

"Moriarty has fluffy dogs and they're adorable!"

"You're lying. Your walking would've sped up. You slowed down. What's wrong?"

"Moriarty was too nice. He didn't even ask anything important. He didn't ask about you. Only me. My age. I don't get it. I don't get why he was nice!"

"I wouldn't worry about it. He'll move on. It's just what he does. He'll be so nice, you'll think committing suicide by jumping off a roof was just a suggestion. For when you're bored one wet Wednesday afternoon. "

"Hmm. Open the letter. He said it was important."

His hands wandered back to the letter. He slid a nail under the flap and undid it. Pulling out the letter Sherlock read the words aloud.

Dear Doofus,

Miss me? I've missed our little game but my adviser has warned me this game should be slower. Don't want to accidentally kill you off do we? I'd much prefer it to be on purpose. I suspect you know my little lie by now. But is it a lie Sherlock? Or is it just a white lie because to you, the truth would be so horrible. Can you really trust Mary Watson? Are you 100% sure? She is an ex - assassin after all. Or just assassin, we don't know. Rosie's been ever so useful in delivering these. If she knew what was in them, I'm not sure she'd be so delightful. Perhaps she's looking forward to delivering these. So exciting to see what new truths we'll uncover. I know this won't bother you at all. You'll try and take all the facts and destroy me. I made a promise to you Sherlock. I will burn the heart out of you. I'll do it by making your heart fight with itself. The two people you love most in the world Sherlock. Watch their daughter cry as I tear them apart.

Lots of love,

JM.

Rosie smiled, "So? What's the game? When do we start?"

Sherlock looked at her. "Moriarty's telling lies. He's going to try to split your parents up." He had to tell her the truth but he knew she'd be optimistic. She was still at that stage in life. The world's her oyster and all. Truth being, the oyster was the world and it was going to swallow her whole. "They're not stupid. This is Moriarty. They know it's not true!" Sherlock sighed, "I know that Rosie. I know they're clever. But what's the problem with an idea?" She looked at her feet and then out of the window, watching the black cabs come and go. "You can't kill it. It will always be there, in the back of their minds. Niggling away like an earworm until finally they crack."

The door to 221B opened once more. "Sherlock? John? Is Rosie back?"

"Sherlock I can't face her right now. Tell her I'm fine and I'm just having a lie down in your room or something. I'll hide in the kitchen."

Rosie threw Mary's later on the desk and ran past the doorway into the kitchen, shutting the kitchen door and pulling the glider across. She held her breath for a bit and then breathed slowly as quietly as possible. Mary reached the lounge.

"Yeah, she's sleeping in my room. Moriarty only asked a couple of questions. She's not hurt. She just needs some quiet."

"Oh OK. John said to come quickly, what is it?"

"Letters." Sherlock waved his in the air, suddenly realising he'd only read the first page of his. "Apparently they're important and we have to be in separate rooms to read them before sharing."

As Rosie listened to their conversation she was slowly realising how little effort Sherlock had put in to keeping Mary away from her. Any other mother would've checked on their child who's been missing for a few hours with a psychopath. Yet Mary hadn't. She hadn't bothered. She also knew why Moriarty had said separate rooms. It was so they could choose what to lie about. If any of them choose to keep their letter secret or didn't tell the whole truth it would be easy to tell and even more easy to prove they were lying. She begged a deity she didn't believe in to force them to all tell the truth. It wasn't fair. That's when she realised why Moriarty was evil. He wouldn't physically hurt them. Why do that, when emotional pain lasted longer.

John came downstairs. "My rooms free if you want to read your letter Mary?" She nodded and headed upstairs, clearly worried about something, almost confirming Sherlock's views. She'd displayed three of the clues showing that she was telling the truth. Yet every other tick was there. Mary was rarely lazy, especially when her life was on the line.

"John. I think it would be wise that we swapped letter so we have the whole story."

Rosie stepped out from the kitchen holding a cup of tea she'd made. She sat on the floor while Sherlock and John sat in their respective chairs. 

John's read: 

Hi John Watson. Formerly of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers. I bet you've had a tough life. Missing the war and joining Sherlock. Then meeting such an amazing woman and having an even cleverer child. She's a bit quicker than you nearly isn't she John? Isn't that suspicious? Then again, maybe she just picked it up from Sherlock. Seems like more than that to me. Oops, did I write that. Looks like I did...

I can only apologise John. Believe what you like but she is too smart for you. She's too smart for all of us. Then again, 221B Baker Street, home for the terrified and those beyond help. Looks like you're all in the right place.

I'm sure we'll be meeting again very soon. 

Jim Moriarty.

"John. He's lying. Look at me. It's a lie. I know it is."

"She's known you her whole life Sherlock of course she's clever." John looked at his daughter who was watching him over the top of her cup. She smiled and carried on drinking her tea as Mary returned to the lounge. She wasn't smiling but she didn't look scared. She didn't say a word but instead handed the letter straight to Rosie.

Dear Mrs Watson,

Will they know it's true or won't they believe me. I am renowned for being a liar but sometimes, just sometimes I tell the truth. Rosie will know. In her heart, Rosie will know who her real Dad is. She's never spent much time with him but he's smart. In control of things. Like she is. It all rests on Rosie. Do you trust her to choose the right man? If she chooses wrong, you could be in big trouble Mary. Big trouble. You've been a naughty girl haven't you. Tut, tut, straying from the path.

It's all on you Mary. Even if you tell the truth, I'll be in the back of their minds. In the back of Rosie's. Ever wonder what's happening in that pretty little head of hers? Me. From today onwards, I'll be there. She's always going to wonder Mary. Who's my real Dad. 

Good luck. She may never trust you again.

Jim Moriarty.

Rosie stared at the letter. Hers was only one sheet unlike Sherlock's. She looked at her parents. Or at least one of them. Then to Sherlock.

"Out."

Mary and John chorused, "What?"

She shouted, " I SAID OUT!"

John didn't understand what had upset her, everyone else was yet to read Mary's letter. Everyone got up to leave. When Sherlock got to the door she said, "No. You stay."

Sherlock sat on the floor opposite Rosie. "I'll answer honestly and truthfully. I will not lie to you. I promise."


	10. 2 Truths and a Lie

"Whose my real Dad?"

"Honestly, I hope it's John. Truthfully, I don't know."

"Will you help me find out?"

"Yes. I will."

"What do I do now?"

Sherlock took a breath. "Invite the clients in and put them under the same promise I just made you."

Rosie's eyes filled with tears, "Promise me it wasn't you."

Sherlock took Rosie's hand. "I promise you Rosie. It's not me."

Rosie's eyes broke like a dam that had been strong for too long. Memories of her earlier days and pictures of photos faded as they were ruined by Moriarty's words. He was right. She didn't know what to believe. All she knew was that she believed in Sherlock Holmes. He would help her. He would be her ally.

Sherlock walked over to the door to 221B. "As from now. You are clients. You will be invited in one at a time. You must be both honest and truthful. This is your daughter you are talking to. You will not lie."

John was the first to re - enter 221B. He sat in the clients chair. Sherlock sat in John's chair and Rosie sat in Sherlock's. 

"Are you my real Dad?"

"I don't know anymore Rosie."

"You've known longer than this. You knew I wasn't yours but something made you cling on to the thought."

"I suspected when you were 12. You beat Sherlock at chess and he never loses a game. He refuses to lose on purpose. It's not fair to lie to your opponent."

John trailed off realising for the first time how terrified Rosie was. The people she grew up with aren't her proper family. Or were they? She had to know. She needed to know desperately. 

"What date was I conceived?"

"Um."

Sherlock butted in, "Oh for goodness sake John answer the question. She's not a child anymore."

"Roughly, the 21st of August."

"I'm a May baby so that's roughly right. I need to cross reference with Mum."

Sherlock leant over to Rosie, "It could've been any day within that week. 21st to the 28th. Your due date was the 22nd and you're rarely on time."

Rosie nodded. "Was Mum late home any day that week?"

"Almost every day. She had the midwife and a case with Mycroft. To do with Moriarty's first game."

"So she'd had contact with a number of people that week."

"Yes."

"OK. You can go now. Go home. I'm staying here tonight."

"Rosie. Come on. Me and your Mum need to know your safe."

"I am safe. I'm with Sherlock."

John wanted to say something. Say Sherlock was the most untrustworthy man he knew. He could get high at any time. He could wander off at midnight. Find a new case. Get bored of this one. But in his mind he knew, he would never harm Rosie. He would always protect her. John stood up to leave but turned back to her as he reached the doorway. 

"Rosie, whatever happens. The choices you make are the ones you live with forever. Please don't kick me out of your life. I watched you grow up. I don't want to do it from a distance."

She could barely look him in the eye. The man she thought was her Dad, leaving as a stranger. Sherlock watched as he left.

"He's right you know Rosie. It is your choice. It has always been your choice."

"How can I look at him Sherlock. He might have been cheated on. He might have raised a child that wasn't his. I don't feel bad for me. Either way I have a family. Either way he has lost someone."

"I'll get Mary."

Rosie tried to compose herself as the next client came in. She had to see them that way. She couldn't look up and see her Mum. Someone who'd looked after her since she could crawl. Someone who looked her in the eyes when she woke up as a baby. Someone who'd carried her for 9 months with the utmost care. She had to see a stranger who had a case. 

"On the week of the 21st of August what were you doing?."

"That was the week I was with Mycroft solving the Reichenbach fall. It had already happened and he knew the answers but I'd never thought about how Sherlock did it. A bit of a brain work out."

"Just Mycroft? Dad said you had the midwife too?"

"Yes, that was in the evenings. He was an emergency replacement. My midwife had, oddly enough fallen pregnant so he'd been assigned to me."

"He?"

"Yes. He."

"Did you ever cheat on Dad?"

She paused. She could answer this question. Would it be too much? Yes, the answer was yes. If she told the truth now, she would almost certainly destroy her daughters life."

Sherlock stood up and got Mary up and out of her chair. "Go and tell my brother he has gone too far. TOO FAR!" Mary was practically shoved out of the door as Rosie burst into tears and punched a hole through the wall. This was not fair on Rosie. He hugged the crying girl as she leant into his arms. "It's not fair Sherlock. Why?"

"I don't know Rosie. But I will fix this."


	11. What have I done?

"Mycroft. Send a car. Now."

She stood out in the cold on the doorstep of the house where she used to be welcome. The house her daughter hid from her in, unable to return to the house she owned. The game had gone too far. It wasn't a game anymore. It was a war. She hung up on him, angry at everything.

The classic black car pulled up outside and Mary felt all the eyes on her. She slid inside. The windows tinted and she could cry away from the world. Away from her daughter and husband that she'd lied to. 

"Mycroft I did a bad thing. I said I slept with Moriarty. John's going to know and Rosie hates me. It's not worth it for a game."

"Except it's not a game is it Mary. Not anymore. You didn't have to lie. The game would've ended if you hadn't done that. You named the wrong person. You know exactly who Rosie's real Dad is. It's not Moriarty is it."

"No. The game had to continue. You said he was unpredictable. You said he could get violent if someone ruined the game. I had to say something and Sherlock needs you more than they need me."

"You can't fix this Mary. They will both hate you. John's forgiven you too many times and Rosie has trust issues anyway. It takes her a long time to trust."

"I know Mycroft. I'm in too deep. Game over."

"You'll be here soon. We'll sort it out in the morning."

"Mycroft. Thank you."

"For what."

"Everything."

The phone went silent but the screen was flashing with three messages.

1\. John Watson

I'm sorry. I've got a little girl crying on her own and a wife who won't come home. You've gone too far Mary. How am I supposed to fix this?

2\. Sherlock Holmes

I'll look after her Mary. Good luck.

 

3\. Jim Moriarty

Thanks for playing the little game. You'll do nicely. Very nicely.

PS. That car wasn't Mycroft's...


	12. Save our Souls

The driver started rushing through the streets like a madman. She did up her seatbelt and tried as carefully as possible to hold herself in place. There was a splitter between the front and back seats so there was no way to get to the driver. She watched cars narrowly miss her through the window which would not wind down. She was trapped.

Abruptly the car stopped and Mary smacked her head into the seat. Blinking a few times her vision started to go and the last thing she saw was her car door begin to open. 

***************************

Pitch black, sudden flashes of light and a searing pain across her head. A voice came from a distance away. "It wasn't Rosie who needed protecting Mary. It was you." She didn't know this voice. It was deep and British. Threatening to it's core. Then came a voice she did know, ready to fill her in on every little detail. Where she'd gone wrong. How she could never fix it. 

"Ready for me to tell all?" The twang of his accent hung in the air like an echo, but the room must have been smaller than she thought. The flashes of light had stopped. She couldn't see either of them but she knew she couldn't move. "You will anyway, " she replied,

"Rosie is sat at home now, thinking I'm her daddy. You and I know that's not true. I also knew you'd continue the game. You had to say me because the truth would ruin Sherlock's life."

"And?"

"I don't need to make a deduction. I also don't need to tell Rosie. I am, in your debt for letting the game continue. I mean, watching you all run about wondering if any of you are related would but interesting certainly, but there wouldn't be much of a ... crescendo."

"So why the handcuffs?"

"I don't need to tell Rosie who her real Dad is because seeing her Mum die would be so much more traumatising."

"Go on then. Not like they want me anyway. Sherlock would look after Rosie. John wouldn't care and Mycroft would find someone else."

"I know. Like I said, I owe you. I'm doing you a favour."

"Oh. Right. Thanks."

"Was that a hint of sarcasm or bitterness? I think it was sarcasm."

Mary twisted her hands around but they were handcuffs not rope. Her right foot was cuffed to a pole behind her. It was too strong for her to fight against. Her wrist was bleeding as the sharp metal cut into her. A light flickered on, a small yellow lamp in the ceiling. Two men stood. One in a black suit, dressed for a funeral. The other in jeans and a grey t - shirt. Gun in his belt and a bat at the far side of the room. There was a window behind her head that had been boarded up. The door was behind them. 

"Don't hurt Rosie."

"I'm her Dad, why would I?"

*******************

Sherlock. Mary never turned up at the Diogenes Club.

\- MH

Sherlock lay in his dressing gown outside his room, guarding the girl who cried herself to sleep. She had been awake for ten minutes but was yet to leave. He peeled himself off of the floor and made two cups of tea. He tapped the door softly with his foot, "Rosie. I made tea." She opened the door and sat back down on the bed. He handed her a cup.

"What happened Sherlock?"

"Your Dad..." He saw her face drop. "John went home. Mary never got there."

"Does anyone know where she is?"

Sherlock shook his head and showed her the text from Mycroft. She scanned the text and shut her eyes, zooming down every road. "Moriarty." She thought harder, his house was too far away. They'd be closer than that. Much closer. "Where's the nearest box room from here?" Sherlock mentally ran down the streets near 221B. London Library, closed before it got properly built.

"Get changed. Hurry up!"

Sherlock ran to his room and changed quickly into trousers, shirt and a blazer. Rosie threw on some jeans and a shirt. She ran to the front door and hailed a taxi, Sherlock was just a few steps behind her.

"This cab has been commandeered by the Police. Get out."

The man was worried if he would get his cab back, he'd seen Sherlock on TV. He was hardly the most reliable man in London. "My brother is in charge of the British government, I will get you a new cab. Move."

Sherlock pulled the driver out into the street and slammed the door. Rosie threw herself into the backseat and buckled in. "GO!" Sherlock floored it and headed for the London Library.

******************

Moriarty's phone beeped and he read the text. "Looks like my little girl is on the way Mary! I could just tell her the truth, tell her who her real Dad is."

Mary remained on the floor. She had no way out anymore. Sherlock wouldn't be able to cope, then John wouldn't be able to and then Rosie would get hurt even more. Why had she been so stupid? She wished she could go back and change it all. Never have left the house that morning. Never done such a stupid experiment. Her only choice was to go through with Moriarty's plan. She wasn't leaving this room. At least she'd get to see Rosie one last time, even if she did hate her.

*******************

"ROSIE, " Sherlock yelled over the sounds of horns blaring and traffic, "TEXT JOHN! USE MY PHONE!"

She leant forward and pulled Sherlock's phone out of his pocket. She tapped out her message and sent it quickly.

Mum's in trouble, Meet us at London Library in 3 minutes.

\- Rosie

"DO YOU THINK HE'LL COME?"

"I SUSPECT HE WILL TRY AND BEAT US THERE!"

Sherlock said this literally as he passed John and Mary's house to which the door had swung open and John had started running. Sherlock yelled out the window to John as he pulled over. John ran round to the passenger seat and buckled in as Sherlock began driving like a lunatic again. Even at high speeds in a high risk situation, neither of them spoke. 

Just ahead, Rosie could see the library. It was partially hidden by a bank but a blue BMW was parked outside which she recognised easily as Moriarty's car. She wondered what lied ahead. He didn't want to hurt her physically, she knew he hated getting his hands dirty. Even his house was pristine despite having two large dogs. That didn't mean he couldn't get to her emotionally and stupidly, they'd brought John. Someone that had raised her. 

As they pulled up alongside Moriarty's car, John jumped out of the car and Rosie leant forward to talk to Sherlock. "I don't think I can do this."

"Once you're inside Rosie, I can't help you. You know you can do this. I was so easy on you but I know you can do better. Let the adrenaline go through you. Anything he tries to pull, take the anger and turn it into reason. Think rationally. It will kill you afterwards, I can promise you that. This will be possibly the hardest thing you ever have to do but it will be worth it all. You will become so much stronger. This is where you turn into a woman. This is where you become dangerous."

He held her cheek and smiled, "Good luck in there." The doors opened and they left the car. John was pulling on the handles of the door like crazy but they wouldn't open. Sherlock pressed the buzzer. "I think you have someone I want." No reply came but after a few moments a well dressed Moriarty reached the door. He grinned. Through the buzzer he spoke back, "Rosie comes with me. You two get to watch on the CCTV upstairs."


	13. Torture Chamber

(Scenes of violence ahead)

Moriarty opened the door and gestured up the stairs. "It's on your right boys but I wouldn't watch if I were you, things might get a bit... messy." Moriarty looked back to Rosie, he put a hand on her back and guided her to the room where the game would begin.

She'd definitely underestimated Moriarty. He'd been so calm, other than the boot, but every villain has their downfall. He was so much worse than she'd predicted. So much worse than she could cope with. She was about to see her mother again, she wasn't sure she wanted to. She was still angry and she wanted to get rid of it. Be rational Sherlock had said but that's so hard to do when you're human.

Moriarty paused outside a black door towards the back of the Library, "Ready to play the game?" Rosie took a breath and nodded. Moriarty pointed towards a camera in the corner, "Any last words?" Rosie looked to the door and then the camera. "I'm sorry." Moriarty laughed, "So sentimental. This is going to be good fun."

He opened the door and walked in front of Rosie. She held her head high and stepped into the torture chamber. She began taking in information.

One door. No windows. Mum at one end. Tied up. Tired. Camera wall in front. John can hear. Moriarty and Moran. 4 walls. Solid? Chair for me. No other ropes. Moriarty and Moran are armed.

Moriarty leant against the wall, bending one leg and resting his foot on the wall. "So, Rosie. I do believe I'm your father." Rosie chuckled, "Biologically apparently." Mary was half asleep with a bruised eye but she smiled at her daughters comment. Moriarty thought now would be a good time to twist the knife. "Mary didn't go off to meet me, "he turned to the camera in the room, "I was at your house John. You came home from a case and Mary was still in bed with me. You were too busy to check on her. You called her name and she didn't reply. She lay next to me and smiled. You didn't have time for her. You weren't good enough for her. I was. Then we got little Rosie." He stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek but Rosie pulled away. Moriarty stared at her as if she was being disobedient. "I'm your father. You wouldn't be here without me." She moved away from him. "I owe you nothing." 

Moran stepped closer to Mary. "You want to be careful what you say Rosie. I think you'll find I'm in control now. I own you."

"NO ONE OWNS ME!"

Moran slapped Mary across the face and Mary fell to the floor. 

"Don't hurt her, " Rosie moved in front of her Mum.

"My little girl, aren't you angry at her. She cheated on John. She went with me. Everything you hate."

"I had no reason to hate you until now."

Moriarty smiled and sang, "You shouldn't have said that!"

There was a snap and a crunch as Moran stood on Mary's fingers and broke each and every one. Rosie cringed and a chill entered the room as every snap made Moriarty grin even more.

"STOP IT! STOP IT! Why are you hurting her?"

"Because what exactly has she got to live for Rosie? You don't want her anymore, she's a bad person. She can't have John anymore because she went to far. And Sherlock's not exactly going to be a big fan if he finds out what I know."

"He'll take her back. I know it."

"Who would have her back Rosie. Even I won't take her and look at what I'm doing. I'm a despicable person."

"My... you know who'll take her back."

"You can't even say Dad anymore can you? You can't call John, your Dad. Do you know why Rosie?" He leant in close to her ear as he whispered, "Because it's not true. Not anymore."

Rosie tried not to cry but her eyes were stinging and she felt even more sick than before. Moriarty saw the emotion and preyed on it like a disgusting reptile. You could see his face forcing her past her comfort zone. Forcing her into this fight. 

"Look into the camera and tell John he is not your father."

"I can't."

"Do as your told."

"Please don't make me."

"Look at Mary. Do you think she can take much more? Because we can make it so much worse for her Rosie. I can make it so much worse."

Moriarty grabbed her shoulder forcefully and turned her to the camera. "Say it." She looked up and wiped the tears from her eyes. A man who had raised her from birth, a man who picked her up when she fell down. The man who had wiped tears from her eyes when he said to Mary he may not come home before leaving on a dangerous case. The man she now had to look to and tell him that he was not her father. 

"You are not my -"

"Go on," he spat, "You are not my father. Maybe for a little extra spice tell him you don't love him."

She fell to the floor and sobbed. "God, I can't believe your my daughter. You're so weak."

"I DIDN'T EXACTLY WANT YOU FOR A FATHER EITHER!"

"Oh Rosie. Yet another strike, what a shame."

Moran kicked Mary swiftly in the stomach while she lay on the floor with a nosebleed. She wasn't even conscious anymore but that didn't stop him.

*******************

"SHERLOCK, THE DOOR IS LOCKED!"

"John just sit down and don't listen. Rosie wouldn't want you to do this."

"She wouldn't have to if I'd just listened to Mary. I bet this is all just a game anyway. Moriarty isn't her real Dad. He can't be. She's mine. I raised her Sherlock. ME!"

Sherlock sat in front of the screen, watching Moriarty for clues, watching Rosie for extent of emotional damage, watching Mary to see how many hits she'd taken. She was strong but even he knew she wasn't putting up a fight. She'd given up on her life. 

************************

Rosie stayed on the floor but Moriarty crouched down and lifted her chin. "Do you think your Mum can still hear you?"

"No. She doesn't want me anymore."

"Untie her Moran."

Moran cut through the ropes and Mary hit the floor like a block of ice, her head smashing into the concrete floor with a smack. Rosie almost bit through her lip with fear. Moriarty shuffled Rosie forward, "Go to her Rosie. Tell her you don't need her anymore."

Rosie ran to Mary. She leant down, "I don't need you anymore." Mary flinched but Rosie was sure it was just her imagination. She leant further down, "In about 2 minutes I'm going to say Sherlock's favourite words. Please back me up. I can't do this without you."

*********************

Sherlock almost leapt out of his chair. "Mary's awake. Rosie knows it. I know it. John we got to get down there now!" John had been banging on the door for some time now. Sherlock ripped the computer monitor from its place and slammed it through the door. Two swift kicks from John and the door was off it's hinges. They tip toed down the stairs, "Quietly John. Wait for it."

**********************

"I see you're behaving now then." Moriarty stroked Rosie's blonde hair. "Good girl." Rosie stood up, she was tall for her age and wasn't far off of Moriarty's height. "My family might be disappointing and it's lucky if they're ever honest with each other. But we always have one thing Moriarty."

"What's that then?" He was patronising her, not having a clue what was coming.

"A choice."

"I think you'll find, you're trapped in here. Me and Moran are armed. You have no choice in being here."

"I know all that. I'm realising that you're probably the only one that's going to survive out of everyone here, so I'm choosing to accept you, as my parent. If you'll have me." She held out her arms.

Moriarty hugged Rosie, she stayed for 2 seconds before snatching his gun out of his waistband and spinning round behind him, pushing the gun to his temple.

"VATICAN CAMEOS, " she yelled and in burst John and Sherlock. John fired a bullet through Moran's stomach and then ran to kick him in the head. Sherlock picked up his gun and stared at Mary.

"I was hoping she'd wake up. I told her I was going to call you. She didn't move. I think she's gone."

John knelt beside Mary. "Mary. Come on. I love you. We forgive each other. We made a promise at our wedding." He felt her wrist and threw his gun across the room. "NO!"

Rosie pushed the gun harder into Moriarty's head. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT." 

She fired.


	14. A Realisation

"Rosie. What have you done."

Moriarty's body lay on the floor, blood pouring like a river out of his head. His eyes lolled back in his head. Rosie stared at him. She tried to feel some remorse for what she had done but she felt nothing. She looked between Moriarty and her Mum, she felt pain for her loss but she also felt the world had been brought back to balance with his death. She looked her Dad in the eye who was shocked at his teenage daughter who was holding a gun with which she had just murdered someone. "He deserved it."

She left the gun on his body and went to sit on the stairs. John looked to Sherlock who was just staring at Moriarty's lifeless body. "Sherlock. She was more than ready." Sherlock looked to John and smiled, "She is definitely your daughter."

John went to sit with Rosie on the stairs. She may be able to kill a man but if there was one thing she was scared of it was her Dad. "Are you OK?" John asked, genuinely worried if she was even aware of the scale of the crime she had just committed. 

She looked to the glass door of the London Library. "Um. I'm not sure. How are you supposed to feel after killing someone?"

"I reckon we feel about the same."

"Moran isn't dead yet. He's still showing signs of life. His foots twitching."

"Oh, well he'll be dead soon."

"Is it supposed to feel worse for me? My first kill and all. I feel like a serial killer Dad. I've got blood on my hands. I feel sick. He deserved it. He deserved to die. He deserves to go to hell and stay there. He can become the Devil. Whatever keeps him away from me and my family."

"Rosie. As much as I want to tell you off and believe me I am so angry right now. I would've done exactly the same thing."

Sherlock came out into the hallway. "Moriarty's definitely gone and Moran's stopped twitching."

They all looked to the floor for a moment. A united thought of, 'What the hell do we do now?' Rosie thought for a moment before affirming her belief. "Moriarty wasn't my Dad."

Sherlock looked puzzled, "How do you know for sure?"

"I killed him. I couldn't kill my real Dad. I just know."

"Who is your real Dad then?"

"The one who raised me from birth. The one man I could never hurt. The one man who will spend the rest of his life protecting me. John Watson."

He smiled and hugged his daughter. "I am still fuming."

She chuckled through new tears, "I know."

"We'll get through this Rosie. I promise. Together."

Sherlock peered back through the door where three dead bodies lay. "I better call Mycroft. Jesus Christ it's a mess in there."

*****************

They stayed on the stairs until the coroners van came. All three were put onto carriers and only one body was cried over. Tears of pain fell and together they mourned.

Mycroft approach the Watson's. "I am sorry for your loss. Mary was an exceptional woman. I've often passed important cases to her. I've lost a good agent, and a friend."

"Friend? You don't have friends Mycroft."

"Someone once said Sherlock, that once in a while I have a horrible feeling that we might all just be human."

"Even you Mycroft?"

"No. Even you."

Mycroft shook John's hand and turned to leave. Rosie watched him, Mycroft was slow to leave and barely cast his eye over her. She had chosen her father but she had a pretty good idea who her biological one was.

"Dad, I'll be right back."

She ran out towards the van and tapped Mycroft on the shoulder. He turned and leant on his umbrella. "Rosie. What can I do for you?"

"You're my real father I perceive."

"No Rosie. John Watson is." He tapped his nose knowingly and smiled at the very wise thirteen year old.

"I know."

"Someday, if you grow up to be half the woman your mother was, MI6 has a job for you."

"We'll see." Rosie smiled back and turned to go back to her Dad. Pausing halfway she turned to the man who ran Britain, "Please come to the funeral Mycroft. I have a feeling Sherlock will need you."

"Of course Rosie."

She ran back to him and hugged him unexpectedly. Mycrofts eyes began to water. He raised a hand and touched his eye. "Human sentiment. Who knew?"


	15. A Last Goodbye

The funeral was in late September. It rained. Pathetic fallacy is so often ironic. She never did have many family members, friends that's all she had. Friends. A few people stood around her coffin as it was lowered into the ground. Rosie threw in a plastic daisy that would live forever. The same one her Dad used to play with to make her laugh. He was so good at that.

Her Dad stood to her right and Sherlock to her left with a hand on her shoulder. Her soldiers, defending her from the hard, long war that was yet to come. Battles were easy with enough planning but the war. That was something that couldn't be planned.

Mycroft stood at the back with his black umbrella open and his eyes shut. Wondering about all the what - could - have - beens. Every day of happiness he could've had. Every day of sadness he had that Mary's heart was ruled by someone else. The respect he had for John Watson being able to win the heart of a woman who should be won by no one.

She was surrounded by the people who loved her the most. Her Dad who would defend her body, her godfather who would defend her mind and her other godfather who would give up the only love he ever had so she could have a normal life.

When Mary's will contained a letter Rosie was offered first read, just like that day when Moriarty's letter was handed to her.

It was all lovely things about their past, photos of Rosie as a toddler but hidden on the back sheet there was a PS to John and Sherlock.

PS: I know you two. And if I'm gone, I know what you could become because I know who you really are. A junky who solves crimes to get high and the doctor who never came back from the war. Will you listen to me? Who you really are, it doesn't matter. It's all about the legend, the stories the adventures, there is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. There is a final court of appeal for everyone. When life gets to strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. When all else fails, there are two men sitting arguing in a scruffy flat like they've always been there, and they always will. THE best and wisest men I have ever known. My Baker Street boys.   
Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.


End file.
